Don't Be A Freak
by beeftony
Summary: In an alternate timeline, John saved Jordan from jumping off the roof. This is what happens afterwards.
1. Hero Complex

**Chapter One  
**Hero Complex

His name was not John Connor.

Not at the moment, anyway. He had gone by many different aliases, each of them fitting slightly less perfectly than the last. The last one had been John Reese, which he had taken a liking to. It had been his father's surname.

They had forgotten to change it, however, and that allowed his pursuers to find him. Like they always did.

Currently, his name was John Baum. He was an average high school student, interested in science, computers, and hanging out with his sister. That was how it was supposed to appear, anyway.

In reality, he was the future leader of mankind's resistance against a homicidal army of cyborgs. The sister he spent so much time around was one of them, reprogrammed with instructions to protect him no matter what.

At the moment, he was looking for her.

"Cameron?" he called, not as loudly as he would have if he were truly worried. It wasn't a life and death situation, and she was the one who was supposed to protect him. Still, she wasn't supposed to disappear like that without warning.

He had told her to meet him outside his last class, but then his teacher had asked him to stay after so that they could discuss the finer points of paying attention to the lecture and not scribbling notes about the Turks in his notebook. He did not inform his teacher of the fact that Turk was singular.

The hallways were oddly empty, he noted. He wasn't that late. Where had everybody gone?

Another student passed by, and he turned to face him. "Have you seen my sister?"

"Is she short, blonde and about to jump off the roof of the gym?"

John furrowed his brow. "No."

"Then I haven't seen her." The student continued to walk past him, and John stopped him again.

"What was that last thing you said?"

"I haven't seen her."

"No, before that. When you were describing her."

"About to jump off the gym?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there's supposedly a chick outside who matches that description. Good thing it ain't your sister, dude."

The student walked off, revealing an image that had been appearing all over school in various stages of completion. It depicted a slightly open door, with a bra hanging from the handle. The glass on the door was emblazoned with the letters "IDAN." John guessed that it was part of a longer word and therefore still incomplete. The door obscured most of the details of the people silhouetted behind it, but one thing that stood out was the girl's long, blonde hair.

John immediately put the pieces together and started racing toward the gym, abandoning his search for the moment. Cameron could survive a fall off the gym. The girl depicted in that graffiti most likely couldn't, and was probably counting on that fact. He aimed to stop her.

He burst outside to see that a crowd had gathered, and a quick glance at the roof confirmed what the other student had told him. A student named Jerry White was shouting at her to jump, which immediately set his blood on fire. He did not have time to chastise him, however, and broke out into a run toward the front doors of the gym. He hopped over the rail and charged up the stairs, then turned and entered the second floor.

Once there, he turned right and dashed up a service stairwell that had somehow been left unlocked. Probably how the girl had gotten up there herself. He reached the end of the staircase and climbed a ladder, then emerged on the roof a few seconds later, just in time to see the girl beginning to step off.

"Wait!"

The shout seemed to have a paralyzing effect on the girl, who wobbled backwards as her body's automatic aversion to falling kicked in. She turned around, but said nothing.

John thanked whoever was watching that he hadn't arrived a few seconds later. He walked closer to her, staying just far enough away from the edge that the crowd below couldn't see him. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Jordan."

"Why are you trying to jump off a roof, Jordan?"

She glared balefully at him, tears leaking from red, puffy eyes, then answered. "You saw it, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I saw it. That's nothing to kill yourself over."

"I might as well be dead! If I don't do this my parents are going to kill me anyway!"

John resisted the urge to get any closer until she calmed down. That would cause her to panic, leading to exactly the outcome he wanted to avoid. "No they're not, Jordan. If your parents wanted to kill you they'd have done it when you started leaving messes in your diapers."

Despite the tension of the situation, Jordan laughed. That was good. Levity helped to calm the jumper down, get them to reconsider their choice.

"Yeah, well this is nowhere close to that. You know what that graffiti means, don't you? Even if my parents don't kill me, I'll have no friends. You can't just go back to school after something like that. No one wants to hang out with a whore."

"I'll be your friend, Jordan," he promised, and meant it. "My name's John. Now just back away from the edge and we'll get to know each other at ground level."

She stayed where she was. "You're just saying that."

"No, Jordan, I mean it. I don't have a lot of friends either. The only other girl I know here is my sister."

"You mean that weird girl who tried to give me make-up in the bathroom?"

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hadn't thought to check there. "Yes. And I'm sure she'd like to be your friend too. What do you say?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Jordan snapped. "Nothing matters anymore. How can I think about school or friends when my life is freaking _over_?

He held off on answering that. He'd asked the same question a number of times, when he lay awake at night pondering the end of the world that was fast approaching. But the answer was always the same. He had to think about it because it was exactly what he was trying to preserve. Whether they won or lost, if he didn't enjoy some degree of normalcy while it lasted, nothing would be worth it.

Besides, his future self had brought the entire world back from the brink after civilization itself had been lost. Surely he could help one girl get her life back.

"Actually I do get it," he told her more quietly. "You think your world is coming to an end and nothing you do matters. I've thought the same thing a couple times. But you know what?"

"What?"

"It does matter. Everything matters. Everything you do affects the people around you, whether you realize it or not. Your life isn't over just because the school found out about a mistake you made. You'll find a way to get through it."

Jordan simply glared at him. "Shouldn't you be giving that speech a couple floors down?"

He suppressed the urge to sigh in frustration. "Okay, let me put it this way. If you die, I'll be very upset. You wouldn't want to upset your new friend, would you?" He smiled broadly, hoping to get her to laugh again.

He succeeded.

"You matter more than you realize, Jordan," he continued. "It's not the end of the world. Now come over here so I can give you a hug."

She stayed rooted to her spot for several moments, then slowly stepped forward. As soon as she was away from the edge, John rushed toward her and threw his arms around her, letting her sob into his shoulder. He said nothing as he held her tight, letting her know that she didn't have to go through this alone.

Inside, his heart swelled and he smiled broadly. He'd done it.

"John."

Jordan started and let go of him, but he kept his grip on her as he turned around. His sister was staring at him. "Hey, Cameron."

"We need to go," she informed him emotionlessly. "Now."

"Not so fast," he protested, indicating the girl standing next to him. "Have you met Jordan?"

Cameron's head tilted to the side as she identified the blonde. "Yes. We met after she finished crying in the bathroom. I offered her a tight present."

"Yeah, she told me about that."

Her head snapped back into that impossibly straight position and she stared at him. "We have to leave."

"Just a minute," he told her. "I have to make sure Jordan doesn't try jumping off the roof again." He looked at the blonde. "You won't, will you?"

Jordan shook her head.

"Good. I have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait." She refused to let go of his hand. "Let me come with you. I don't want to face my parents just yet."

He looked at Cameron, then back at Jordan. He knew it wasn't wise to get other people tangled up in their lives. The people who did get involved usually ended up dead. But he'd already saved her life once. If he followed that cold logic and just left her here to fend for herself, he might as well have let her jump.

"Alright," he agreed, then led her toward the fire escape that had conveniently been built on the other side, away from the throng of students. He ignored the cold glare Cameron was giving him, but noted that she seemed to follow his lead without asking any questions. Those would come later, he supposed. If not from her, then from his mother for certain.

He would just have to deal with that. He'd already made his choice. But as he led Jordan down the rusted metal staircase, he found himself thinking that he'd rather face Judgment Day than the wrath that was sure to be visited on him by Sarah Connor.

* * *

His mother wasn't home when they arrived. She had said something about going to the park with Andy Goode, hoping to get him somewhere isolated where she could do what needed to be done. As much as he understood the importance of their mission, John sincerely hoped she didn't, for her sake. Murdering people to change the future was what the machines did, not them. If they stooped to that level, then they might as well not even bother fighting.

"You guys don't have a whole lot of stuff," Jordan remarked as they walked inside.

"Just moved in last week," he explained. "Most of our stuff's still in storage."

"That explains why I haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah, we're the new kids on the block."

He led her into the living room where they sat down. Cameron followed them, but remained standing. She still hadn't questioned him.

"It's hard to believe you guys are brother and sister," she said, looking at Cameron as she stared at the covered window. He didn't doubt for a second that she could see right through it.

"What do you mean?" the cyborg asked, suspicious. John knew what was going through her head right now and had to stop himself from making cutting motions across his throat. That might confuse her.

"Well, no offense, but your brother's a lot more sensitive," Jordan answered. "If he'd been in that bathroom with me I never would have gotten up on that roof."

"She's adopted," he explained. It wasn't entirely a lie. "And she's been through some pretty heavy stuff too. That's why she acts the way she does."

"You mean like Cheri Weston?"

"Not exactly. She doesn't like to talk about it."

"Does she have PTSD or something?"

"Yeah," he answered, still lying out his ass. "Where'd you hear about that?"

She looked away. "Nowhere."

"Jordan." John leaned forward and tried to look her in the eye again. She wasn't letting him. "Jordan, it's okay; you can talk to me."

"PTSD," Cameron repeated. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Usually experienced by war veterans and law enforcement officers." She paused, as if considering what to say next. "I have a metal plate in my head."

"Oh," she replied, looking a little guilty. "Sorry I called you insensitive. Is that why you act so weird?"

"Head injury," said John. "When she was little. And some other stuff too. Messed her up a little bit."

"Oh." She chuckled darkly. "Suddenly what I'm going through seems a little pathetic."

"It's not pathetic," he assured her, squeezing her hand. She looked at him and smiled weakly.

The door opened then, and his mother stepped through. She tensed immediately upon seeing that there was an unidentified girl on the couch. "John," she said slowly as her hand migrated to a spot on her back. "Who is that?"

"Her name's Jordan," he answered. "She's a girl from school."

"Her parents are going to kill her," Cameron supplied, trying to be helpful. She was not.

"What's she doing in our living room?"

"Hanging out," he said calmly.

Sarah Connor stared at the three of them for several moments before gesturing to him. "I need to talk with you in the kitchen. Now."

He sighed and stood up. "I'll be back," he told her, then looked at Cameron. "Keep her company."

The cyborg nodded and sat down next to Jordan on the couch. He followed his mother into the kitchen.

As soon as they were far enough out of earshot, she whirled on him. "What the hell are you thinking? Bringing another person here. You know the rules."

"She tried to jump off the roof of the gym, Mom," he defended. "I needed to make sure she wasn't going to try and kill herself again."

"You should still know better than to bring her here. If something comes for us she might just get her death wish anyway."

"That won't happen," he insisted, crossing his arms. He'd stood his ground against her before. "I'll make sure of it."

"You can't know that. By bringing her here you've put her in danger."

"She was already in danger," he rebutted. "I saved her from it. I'm not letting her out of my sight until I'm certain she's okay."

"You do that and you put us _all_ in danger."

"You're the toughest person I know," he said. "And there's no way I can put Cameron in danger. So don't try and tell me that's your reason, because it's not."

She glared back at him. "You talked her down from a roof, you said?"

"Yes."

"Well that's just great." She threw up her hands, then brought them down again to slap her thighs before sitting down at the table. "I'm sure you'll get all sorts of recognition at school. Maybe even get your picture in the paper as the local hero. Bring our enemy right down on top of us."

"I made sure no one saw me, Mom," he insisted. "I'm not stupid. We went down the fire escape away from where everyone else was."

"You got lucky. Next time you should just stay back and let things play out on their own."

"Why? So we can let the future happen the same way it did the first time? I thought we were here to change things."

"Yes, John, important things. Things like SkyNet. You don't have to rescue everybody who gets the urge to take a dive on the pavement." The glare returned. "You don't have to be a hero."

"Didn't you always tell me I was destined to be a hero?" he shot back. "That I was born to save mankind? When's that gonna start? Judgment Day? I can't save the world if you keep telling me not to."

"This isn't the same thing, John. Saving her wasn't your mission."

"Neither was stopping SkyNet until I asked you to," he retorted, giving her a glare of his own. "You wanted to run."

"And you told me you didn't want to be a hero."

"That was before I saw Jordan about to nosedive off the gym. I'm not sure if we can stop SkyNet, but I'm not going to ignore someone who gets put in my way."

"You don't always have to take on everybody else's problems, John."

"Isn't that what being a hero is?" he challenged, leaning over her. "Taking part in a battle that isn't yours? What about the original timeline, before the machines tried to kill me? I didn't have to be a hero then. I didn't have to organize the resistance and save mankind. But I did. It's who I am, no matter what my future holds for me."

She sighed, then shook her head and smiled a little bit. "You have to stop growing up while I'm not looking."

John smiled as well. "I make no promises."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Calm her down, try and find out what happened. I know the whole school was talking about something that happened with her but I don't know what."

Now that her temper was past, Sarah adopted a more supportive role. "Was there anything strange going on that you noticed? Any rumors you overheard?"

John explained to her about the graffiti and her bathroom encounter with Cameron. She nodded.

"Did she tell you specifically what was going on?"

"No, she kinda dodged around it. I don't think she wanted to talk about that part."

"Was she a loner? Did you see her hanging out by herself?"

He shook his head. "She's on the cheerleading squad. If she had any friends I'm guessing they heard the rumors and aren't talking to her."

"Or she's avoiding them."

"Yeah."

There was silence. "What about you? What happened with Andy Goode?"

She scooted forward in her chair and pulled out a nine millimeter pistol that had been stuffed into the back of her pants, then set it on the table. John nodded solemnly.

"Is there a bullet missing from that gun?"

Sarah shook her head. "Too many people. I didn't think anybody went for walks in the park anymore."

He raised an eyebrow to show her he didn't believe that. "You chickened out, didn't you?"

She chuckled. "You caught me."

John rolled his eyes. "Mom, if you want him dead, just send Cameron. It's something she's better at than either of us."

"Well maybe I don't want him dead. Maybe there's a way to destroy the Turk without killing him."

"If you can think of one I'd love to hear it."

She sighed. "He told me the Turk has moods."

He stared at her. "What?"

"It had something to do with it solving chess problems differently depending on the day," she explained. "I didn't understand him very well; I was too busy thinking about the gun in the back of my pants."

John's face was completely serious. "Mom, you need to tell me everything you remember about that computer," he said. "I need to know how many processors it had, what the RAM is, everything."

"Why, John?"

"Because if it's approaching problems differently each time then it might already be SkyNet."

She sat up straighter. "How do you figure?"

"Because that means it's acting human. Just like SkyNet did before it got angry at humans and declared war on us."

"I already guessed that, John. That's why we need to destroy it."

"I'm with you on that. I just need to know how good of a virus I have to write to render it useless. If it's as advanced as Andy claims it is, it might have surpassed mere programming already and gone straight into artificial intelligence. It might even be self-aware."

She sighed again. "Andy said he took apart game consoles to add processing power."

"Just like the military."

"Exactly. He said it was three Xboxes and four Playstations, and something about daisies."

"Daisy chaining," John inferred. "It's where you wire things together in sequence but not in a web or a loop. With power strips it's useful for running a parallel circuit but with motherboards it adds to your processing power."

She stared at him. "Pretend I don't know what you're talking about," she replied. "Then dumb it down some more."

"Okay, think of it as a literal chain of daisies," he said. "You poke a hole below each flower and run a wire through it. It's the same wire running through all of them, but each time it goes through one it adds to the chain. Replace flowers with motherboards and you get the idea."

"Alright. What does that mean?"

"It means he's got processing power on par with some of the best supercomputers that don't belong to the military."

"Which means we need to destroy it."

"Yes. How many monitors did it have?"

"Two," she answered. "One had a picture of a chess match on it and the other just had a bunch of text."

"So he's got one for code and another with a GUI?"

"Gooey?" she repeated exactly the way he'd pronounced it.

He rolled his eyes. "Graphical User Interface. It's what lets you see pictures and icons instead of just a bunch of text." He paused as a thought occurred to him, reminding him of the girl that was still sitting in their living room. "Wait a minute."

"What?"

"I think I know what happened with Jordan."

Sarah wrinkled her brow. "What's that?"

"The graffiti wasn't complete," he explained. "Someone wrote 'IDAN' in the middle of the door, but they never got to finish it. I couldn't think of what the full word was until just now."

"John, what are you talking about?"

He slapped himself in the forehead and started pacing. "I'm an idiot. I figured she was sleeping with one of the faculty but I didn't know who. I should have figured it out earlier."

"You knew she was _what_?"

"The graffiti said 'IDAN.' Add a G and a U in front of it."

"GUIDAN?"

"Guidance Counselor," he revealed. "That's how she knew what PTSD was."

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"That's Cameron's new cover story for why she acts so emotionless."

"Ah."

"We have to help her," he said. "Show her it's not her fault." He started walking back toward the living room.

"John, wait."

He turned to face her again. "What?"

"You already saved her life. You don't have to do anything else for her."

He refused to believe that. "Yes I do."

"What about the Turk?"

"We'll talk about that later. Right now this is more important."

He turned around and left the kitchen.

* * *

They had been sitting in silence for 5 minutes 47 seconds. The girl named Jordan said nothing to her, casting occasional glances toward the kitchen. Cameron could hear them easily by boosting her audio receptors, but humans did not have that capability.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" she asked after 6 minutes had passed.

"No," the machine lied. Her orders were to keep Jordan company, not brief her on their mission. She would have to be terminated if she found out.

"It sounds like they're arguing."

"It does."

"Do they argue a lot?"

"Yes." That was the truth. Sarah and John did have a tendency to disagree over things. Cameron had recorded 27 arguments in the last week alone. She did not inform Jordan of that fact.

"My family used to argue a lot too. Back when my brother was still around."

"You have a brother?" she asked, keeping the conversation going. Conversation was a vital part of keeping company.

"Yeah. He's over in Iraq right now. Before he joined the Army my parents always used to be on him about doing something with his life. He didn't want to go to college."

Iraq. A database search revealed that it was a sovereign nation occupying much of what had once been ancient Mesopotamia. In March 2003 the United States of America had declared war on the country and invaded. They still occupied it four years later. Jordan's brother must have been part of the occupying force.

"What is your brother's name?"

She chuckled. "John."

"That is the same as my brother's name."

"I know, it's funny. He even kind of reminds me of my brother."

Cameron doubted that her brother was destined to save mankind, but did not mention this to Jordan. "How does he remind you of your brother?"

"Well, he's brave, sensitive, and he makes me feel safe. If it hadn't been for him I probably would've jumped."

"Yes," she agreed. "John is very brave."

"I'm really glad he came along when he did." She looked down, and her eyes released several hundredths of a fluid ounce of salt water. Or as humans called them, tears. Her social protocols told her that humans cried for various reasons, mostly when they were upset or hurt. She did not understand why Jordan would cry after expressing that she was happy.

"But I was trying to leave all that behind for a reason," she continued. "I don't know how I'm going to live my life now. My parents expect so much of me and I totally let them down."

"Why do your parents expect so much of you?"

"They're control freaks. Mom's an overbearing nutjob and Dad served in the first Gulf War. That's how I knew about PTSD. Some of the people he fought with had it."

"Sarah is a control freak."

Jordan blinked at her. "Why didn't you call her Mom? Are you not that close?"

She went over her statement again and determined that she had indeed neglected to maintain her cover. She searched her database for possible excuses, finding one after .22 seconds.

"I'm adopted."

"Oh. Right." Jordan seemed satisfied with that answer. She cancelled the termination order that had come up in case she could not be convinced. John would not be happy if Jordan was terminated.

She heard movement to the right and turned to see John walking out of the kitchen, with Sarah following closely behind him. Their faces were completely serious, and they were both looking at Jordan, whose heart rate doubled.

"Hello, Jordan," Sarah greeted, affecting a smile.

Cameron recognized the tactic. It was designed to make one seem warm and friendly in order to gain the subject's trust. She had used it herself many times. Sarah sat down across from them, while John sat next to Jordan on the other side. She was leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees with her hands clasped together to indicate interest in the conversation.

"Why don't you tell us a little more about yourself? John tells me you're a cheerleader."

Jordan nodded, and her heart slowed down to mildly elevated levels. She was relaxing.

"What happened today?"

Her body language became more guarded, and she appeared to be selecting her words carefully. "How much did you tell her?" she asked John.

"He told me what I needed to know," Sarah answered quickly, drawing attention away from John. This was intended to keep her from thinking John had betrayed her. "Why were you trying to jump off the roof?"

"Because my life is freaking over."

Sarah smiled warmly, while her own heart rate rose, indicating that it was there merely to keep Jordan comfortable. "Well, I wouldn't say that. If your life was over we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"He told you about the graffiti, right? He told you how the whole school knows what happened?"

"Yes," Sarah answered, nodding. "Do you feel comfortable telling me what it was about?"

Jordan crossed her arms and leaned back into the couch. She did not try to wipe away the tears that were pouring from her eyes and dribbling down her cheeks.

"Sure," she replied. "Since everybody already knows I might as well just say it."

"It's freaking big and out there," Cameron added. John and Sarah stared at her. Jordan simply nodded.

"I know, right? Anyway, let me start at the beginning."

They patiently waited until she was ready, saying nothing. Cameron noticed that John had taken one of her hands into his own and was rubbing it, a gesture that was meant to show comfort. Unlike Sarah, he was being genuine.

"So, I started seeing the Guidance Counselor because I was depressed and my grades were going down. We talked about my life and stuff and he kinda helped at first."

She refused to look at any of them as she recounted the next part. "You probably know what happened after that. He starts talking to me more often, tells me I'm special and he can make everything okay, all that After School Special stuff they warn you about."

She paused. "I knew what he was doing. I knew and I went along with it anyway because I figure, who else is gonna love me, right? I'm a short, puffy-faced crybaby who can't even keep her stupid grades up. I let him do what he wanted because I knew I was never going to do better."

"Jordan," Sarah told her in a soothing, motherly tone. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know _that_!" she snapped. "That's not the problem. The problem is the whole school found out and now my reputation is _ruined_! My parents are gonna _crucify_ me!"

"They are going to strip you naked, flog you, force you to carry a crucifix up a hill and then nail your hands and feet to it so that you slowly asphyxiate yourself over a matter of days?" Cameron asked, which earned her some more strange looks from Sarah and John.

"If I'm _lucky_!" Jordan answered. "My parents are total psychos. My dad made my brother sleep outside in a tub of ice once when he came home drunk."

"Corporal punishment," Sarah replied with just a hint of disgust. "Tell me more about your parents."

"Not much to tell. They expect the world of me and the pressure gets to be too much sometimes. I'm never going to get into college now and I'm too short to join the military. I have no options."

Sarah just smiled. "You know, when I was in school I used to go out and party all the time. I didn't really connect with my parents. Then when I grew up I became a waitress. I didn't think I had any options either." Her smile widened and she looked at John. "Then I had a son."

"Fat load of good _that_ does me," Jordan replied. "And don't go thinking he got me pregnant. I'm on the pill and we used condoms."

"Well, at least you were smart about it," she replied, growing visibly more agitated. She was running out of appropriate responses. Cameron could relate. "But my point is this: no matter where you are in life, you've always got so much more ahead of you that you never could have imagined. Believe me, this will pass."

"If you say so. The world could end any day now."

Sarah's smile disappeared. "Yes, it could. That's why you need to make the most of the time you have."

"Are you going to call my parents now?" she asked, not looking at her.

"Not unless you want me to," Sarah told her. "But I can't keep you here any longer than one night. They might think you've been kidnapped if you wait any longer to get in touch with them."

"They probably think I killed myself or ran away," she said. "That gym thing is probably all over the news by now."

"There weren't any cameras," Cameron informed her. She had seen to that.

"All the same, I think you should own up. You're welcome to stay here for tonight, but you can't hide here forever."

Jordan looked down. "I know."

"Cameron and I can keep you company," John promised, smiling. "She really needs to practice her charades."

"I still do not understand how that wasn't a jackal."

"Well you're not supposed to guess it ten times in a row. Besides, we've been over this. It was a coyote."

"I have no evidence to confirm that."

Jordan was overtaken by laughter. John's smile grew broader.

"Will you guys come with me tomorrow?" she suddenly pleaded. "I don't want to face my parents alone."

"Of course," he swore. "But for tonight, let's try and forget about all that."

She nodded. "Okay."

"What about you, Mom?" he asked. "Are you staying?"

Sarah shook her head and stood up. "I have a doctor's appointment. Then I need to finish up some business with Andy."

His smile disappeared and he nodded. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks." She smiled and then left the room.

They played charades for the next 34 minutes. Cameron guessed "Jackal" a total of 129 times. None of them were correct.

She would get the hang of it someday.

* * *

Sarah returned later that night pondering the words of J. Robert Oppenheimer. The famed director of the Manhattan Project had opined that the weapon he helped create would eventually lead to mankind's downfall and the destruction of Earth. In a sense, he was right. But the bomb was not the ultimate problem.

It was only the first stage in a larger plan.

Oppenheimer imagined that the nuclear test brought them closer to becoming the incarnation of death. He had never faced a terminator.

"Now we're all sons of bitches," she remarked with a heavy sigh.

She shook her head and resolved to record the rest of her thoughts in the journal she kept. She parked the jeep and removed the keys, then moved up the sidewalk toward the house. She put her keys in the door and turned the lock.

When she opened it, she came face to face with one of the true incarnations of death.

This was not the one that would bring about the end of the world, however. She was merely a guard dog.

"You shouldn't have that out like that," she hissed, pointing at the pistol the cyborg carried in her right hand. "What if I was someone else?"

"You wouldn't have made it to the door."

Sarah didn't doubt for a second that she was telling the truth. "Is John asleep?" she whispered, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Yes," Cameron answered, pocketing the Glock.

"What about that girl?" She couldn't remember her name at the moment. They started moving toward the living room. "Is she still here?"

"John offered her the use of my room," she answered as Sarah turned on the light. "I don't sleep."

"But you're keeping up appearances, I see," Sarah noted as she saw the sheets that had been laid out on the couch. They appeared to have been strategically disorganized so that it would look as though she had simply gotten up in the middle of the night.

"Yes. Jordan said that she thought John was the chivalrous one."

She laughed. "Well, you're the one with shining armor."

Cameron did not get the joke, as usual. "Has Andy Goode been terminated?"

A shake of the head. "No. I burned his house down instead."

"Was he in the house?"

"I did it just before he got home. The neighbors stopped him from running inside."

"You should have waited until he arrived home before setting fire to the house."

She glared. "The whole point of doing this was so I wouldn't have to kill him. The Turk's destroyed. It can't become SkyNet now."

"As long as Andy Goode survives the Turk will not remain dead," Cameron pointed out with that icy cold logic of hers. "He will rebuild."

"Then I'll destroy that too."

"You seem reluctant to terminate an important target. You should hand control of the mission over to me."

"Not in a million years," she snarled.

The machine's head tilted to the side, as though she was considering something. "I understand now. You do not wish to terminate Andy Goode because you have developed feelings for him."

"No I haven't. I just don't want to kill anybody unnecessarily."

"It is necessary."

She scowled. "I'll be the judge of that."

"It is not for you to judge."

"Well it's not for you to decide either," she snarled. "It's not for _anyone_ to decide."

Cameron said nothing.

Sarah considered the conversation dropped. "How did it go while I was gone?" she asked, moving the sheets aside before sitting down on the couch. "Did you guys have fun?"

"It went well. Though I still have not mastered charades."

She chuckled. "You'll get it one day. Is Jordan doing okay?"

"Her stress levels have dropped and she no longer cries like a baby."

"Good. I can't imagine what her home life must be like if she's that afraid of her parents."

"She displays no outward signs of physical abuse," Cameron informed her. "No bruises or lacerations anywhere on her body."

"Not all abuse is physical," she replied sadly. "If a girl gets so worked up enough over something like this that she'd rather kill herself than seek help, it's a sign that she doesn't have enough supportive people in her life."

"She has John."

She smiled. "Yeah, I suppose she does."

"He seems as reluctant to stick to the mission as you do," the machine observed. "Saving her was not necessary."

Sarah blinked. She had said the same thing to John, but had not considered the first point. She knew the reason she had trouble carrying out Andy Goode's assassination was because she was human and valued life. It hadn't crossed her mind that John had gone out of his way to save somebody for the exact same reason. Now she understood why she had conceded the point earlier: she agreed with him.

"That's what makes him John," she explained, still smiling. "He did it anyway."

"Why?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

Cameron said nothing for several moments. "I will never understand humans."

"We barely even understand ourselves," she admitted.

A few more moments of silence passed, then Sarah spoke up again. "I'm going with you tomorrow when you take Jordan to her parents' house. I want to make sure she's not just exaggerating."

"Why would she exaggerate? Her parents are going to kill her."

"I don't think she meant that literally," Sarah clarified. "At least I hope not. Teenagers sometimes make things sound worse than they are so they can get more sympathy."

"But she tried to kill herself. If her parents were not going to kill her she wouldn't have done that."

"Sometimes they fool themselves."

"John is not like that," Cameron pointed out. "He maintains a realistic perspective of things."

"John knows how the world is going to end," she pointed out. "That girl doesn't have the whole picture. I remember when I was in high school. It seemed like those years would last forever. Now I look back and wonder where all that time went. Jordan thinks her life is over because, to her, high school _is_ her life. It'll take a few years before she's able to see that life really does move on."

"When did you realize that?"

She smiled. "When I had John."

The conversation ended there. Cameron went back to patrolling the house, and Sarah checked in on the other two teenagers before going to bed herself. She chronicled her thoughts in a small, leather-bound journal that she had been using ever since they arrived here. She was still considering what to call it.

Now that her musings had been recorded, Sarah shut off the light and went to sleep.

It had been a very interesting day.

* * *

Author's Notes: Yeah, I can't stop writing things for this show. It's like eating Doritos. You can't stop at just one.

This is more of a straight up story than my last two efforts, and as such it contains copious amounts of _drama_. It's no darker than the actual show got, and given what it's about, I dare say it's actually lighter. And of course there are still jokes.

For those of you who haven't figured it out, this is an alternate take on the season one episode "The Turk." The title is derived from the phrase that Cameron all but throws back in John's face when she keeps him from doing what ended up happening in this version of events.

A lot of people complain that season one John is too mopey to be the savior of mankind, and he owes a lot of that to the outcome of that episode. One of the things I came to realize is that the reason he doesn't always act like the hero he'll one day become is because Sarah and Cameron_ won't let him_. In "Heavy Metal," he takes a stupid risk and it ultimately ends up paying off. I decided to see how events would play out if that happened earlier.

I mentioned Andy Goode in the interest of keeping this grounded in the events that took place on the show, to demonstrate that only one significant thing has changed. However, since we didn't hear from him again until two episodes later, he won't be making much of an impact on this story. Sarah's realization in the last scene is something that just naturally ended up happening as this chapter played out. John and Sarah's humanity is both a strength and a weakness, depending on whether they're saving someone even though they didn't have to or trying and failing to kill them. Trying to do a terminator's job just doesn't become them.

I had to look up daisy chaining, so if I got anything wrong feel free to let me know. Do note that John's explanation is extremely simplified on purpose so that Sarah can understand the basic concept. Hopefully I explained it well enough that you guys understood it as well.

What happened to Jordan is something I extrapolated from what the show hinted at in this episode and "Queen's Gambit." I tried very hard not to make her a complete victim, however. Teenage girls are really smart these days, and they've heard all the warnings. Her low self-esteem led to her submitting even though she knew exactly what was going on, and as she points out, she didn't have a problem with what happened. The reason she tried to kill herself is because _people found out_. It may surprise a lot of people to know that in most cases of teacher/student relationships, the student often plays an active part in reciprocating the affection, if they don't initiate it themselves. Otherwise such things would have a difficult time happening to begin with. Of course, don't count on the news to mention this.

Sarah keeping a journal is my way of working her beginning and ending monologues into the story, a la _Doogie Howser_ and _Scrubs_. I'm not sure if I'll reveal the thoughts that this turn of events influenced, but stay tuned.

I don't think I should have to tell anybody what the Jackal reference is about. Although in its original context it took place during Pictionary.

I have a total of five, maybe six chapters planned for this story. I'll be releasing chapters as I finish them.

Let me know what you think!


	2. Thank You For Explaining

**Chapter Two  
**Thank You For Explaining

John had expected to find Cameron in the living room when he woke up. What he did not expect was for the cyborg to be lying on the couch, perfectly still, with her eyes closed and the sheets they had put there last night pulled over her. Blinking a couple of times to confirm that he wasn't just imagining things, he walked over to his robot bodyguard to find out why she was pretending to sleep on the job.

"Cameron?"

No answer.

"Cameron."

Still nothing.

"_Cameron_!"

That would have been enough to rouse a narcoleptic bear during winter. But Cameron remained as still as a corpse.

"Cameron, this isn't funny," he insisted, shaking her. "What's going on?"

A few seconds later her eyes snapped open. "Just five more minutes, John," she said plainly, whereas a human would have moaned.

His brow furrowed and he backed up. "Okay, first of all, since when do you sleep? Second, you're supposed to say that with your eyes closed."

The machine blinked. "Oh," she said, closing her eyes. "Apologies. I'm new to sleeping."

"Answer the question, Cameron."

"Your mother told me to keep up appearances."

John rolled his eyes. "Jordan isn't even up yet. Besides, I could just tell her you got up before she did. Come on, get out of there."

"No."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Why not?"

"I'm comfortable."

"What?"

"I can see why humans enjoy sleep. This position is very relaxing."

John held a hand to his temple, not even pretending to understand her anymore. "First you sleep, now you're comfortable? Did a magic cricket come along and turn you into a real girl while I was asleep?"

"No," she answered, still not moving. "There are no crickets. I spent the first two nights after we moved in hunting down and terminating them all."

"That's not what I meant. You can feel comfortable?"

"Yes."

"_How_?"

"My pseudo-flesh has nerve endings," she explained, eyes still closed. "It allows me to feel tactile sensations. It's useful for blending in."

John threw out his arms and then let them come down again. "Well that's new. You mean you can feel pain?"

"Not if I override it. I don't possess the same aversion to pain as humans do. I have other ways of assessing damage."

"But you feel other sensations?"

"Yes."

"Well that's very interesting, but I won't stand for you being lazy just because you like the way the covers make you feel. Get up."

She didn't. "May I have another few minutes?"

"Cameron, I order you to get out of bed."

Her eyes opened again and the cyborg emerged from the sheets without argument, then stood up straight. It was then that John discovered she wasn't entirely dressed. He turned away, afraid of what his mother might say if she walked in right now and caught him staring at his cyborg sister in her current state.

He wondered briefly if that was the reason she hadn't wanted to get up until he ordered her, but dismissed it. Cyborgs had no concept of modesty, so far as he knew. Then again, he thought he knew that terminators didn't feel. Now he knew one who did. He shook his head and returned to the matter at hand.

"Where are your clothes?"

"There." He glanced back at her for just a second to see her looking over to where a pile of them lay on the floor.

"Well, put 'em on. If Mom catches you wandering around in your underwear again she's gonna flip."

Cameron nodded and began dressing. After her shirt and pants were on John allowed himself to look at her again.

"Okay, now explain to me: how exactly were you doing that? I know you can sit still for eternity and not get bored, but..."

"Standby mode," she explained, sitting down to put on her socks. "I can shut down all higher level functions and remain in a dormant state until a predefined point in time or if I am forcefully awakened."

"You mean when I shook you?"

She nodded, then reached for her boots.

"When were you supposed to wake up?"

"7:30."

He glanced at his watch. Seven twenty-eight. He was up at seven twenty-eight on a Saturday. He really needed to start sleeping in like a normal kid.

"Okay, so why were you doing that again? Jordan probably won't get up for another couple hours."

"It was a test of my systems," she responded, finishing the laces on one boot. "We may have company again."

He glanced toward his mother's room. "Not if Mom's got anything to say about it."

"Still, it's vital to my mission that I learn to blend in. What if I get invited to a sleepover?"

"I don't think you're in any danger of that," he opined, recalling her story of what happened in the bathroom before she met Jordan. She actually thought "bitch-whore" was a compliment.

"I must be prepared for any possibility." She finished the laces on the other boot and stood up.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. Let me give you some tips."

Cameron nodded to show she was listening.

"First off, I know you can simulate breathing. You might want to leave that function turned on next time if you don't want people thinking you're a corpse."

"You thought I was dead?"

"I would have if I didn't know any better."

"Very well then. My breathing subroutines are an automatic process. I will leave them running next time."

"Good. Next up, what would you have done if a terminator crashed through the front door and you were still laying there? I yelled at you pretty loud, and you didn't move at all."

"I only entered standby mode 1 hour and 29 minutes ago."

"Still, be more careful. There's a ton of excuses I can pull out for why you're up so early."

She nodded. "Alright. I will exercise more caution in the future."

"And finally, what if Jordan woke you up instead of me?"

Cameron tilted her head to the side. "Are you worried I might terminate her?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I be?"

"No. It would upset you and hinder your judgment, thus preventing you from carrying out the mission properly." She glanced away for a moment, then looked back. "You would get mad at me."

"I'd be more than mad at you," he admitted. "And Mom would be super-pissed. I think she might actually try and deactivate you."

"That's why I won't terminate her unless you ask me to."

He nodded. "Good."

Footsteps sounded behind him and John turned around.

"Good morning."

"Hey, Mom."

She smiled. "You're up early for a Saturday."

"When am I ever up late?"

"I meant for a high school kid," she clarified, walking closer. "I just checked on Jordan and she doesn't look like she'll wake up for another hour at least."

John raised an eyebrow. "You didn't sit by the side of her bed and stare at her like you used to do with me, did you?"

She shook her head.

"Good. Last thing we need is for her to think you're crazy."

Sarah responded with a tight smile, and nothing else. She glanced at Cameron. "Isn't that what you wore yesterday?"

"It's more than she was wearing when I woke her up," supplied John.

"Woke her up?" she repeated. "She doesn't sleep."

"No, but she does an excellent cadaver impression."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Standby mode," Cameron clarified. "I can suspend higher level functions in order to make it appear as though I'm sleeping. It's useful for keeping up appearances."

"You're supposed to be watching the house."

"She snaps out of it if you shake her hard enough," John explained. "But I had to remind her to still simulate breathing next time."

"There isn't going to _be_ a next time," Sarah replied with finality. She looked at Cameron. "Don't make a habit of it."

The machine nodded.

Her eyes returned to John. "Well, now that you're up, do you want pancakes?"

"I'll wait for Jordan to get up," he insisted. "That way you don't have to work twice as hard."

She crossed her arms. "Who said I was fixing her breakfast?"

"Nobody. I was gonna share mine."

The corners of her lips turned slightly upward. "I'll make extra," she declared before heading to the kitchen.

John chuckled and shook his head. Sarah Connor didn't behave very much like an ordinary mother. She kept guns under the floorboards and Kevlar in the furniture, drilled him relentlessly with the importance of knowing one's exits, and spent her days trying to thwart the beginnings of a homicidal supercomputer that would one day declare war on mankind. Cooking breakfast was one of the few ordinary things she did, and she took great pride in it.

Even if all her recipes came straight off the box.

"Are you gonna have any?" he asked Cameron.

"Will it help to keep up appearances?"

"I could always just say you ate something already."

"I'm capable of consuming food."

John smiled as he remembered her munching on a potato chip at a gas station in 1999. "That's right. You're different, aren't you?"

"I am," she confirmed before walking off to join Sarah in the kitchen.

* * *

Jordan woke up about thirty minutes later, contrary to Sarah's prediction. She walked into the kitchen wearing the same outfit as yesterday, just like Cameron. Of course, since she hadn't brought any other clothes to their house, she at least had an excuse.

"Good morning," Sarah greeted. "Do you want pancakes?"

She squinted in disgust. "Ugh, no. Those make you fat."

Sarah had once heard that children were only polite with other people's parents. Teenagers, she had learned, were rude to any adults they came across, even if they didn't mean to be. She smiled tightly and took the plate for herself. She noted with satisfaction that the girl seemed sad that the pancakes were moving away from her. Well, that was too bad. She should have said yes.

"So, are you taking me back to my parents now?"

"That depends on whether you want me to or not," she told her. "But you can't stay here."

Jordan nodded to show that she understood. "Well, they're never going to feed me breakfast after what I did."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you want the pancakes after all?"

The girl nodded.

"Say please, then."

Jordan appeared to swallow her pride. "May I please have some pancakes, Ms. Baum?"

She smiled and handed her the plate. "Syrup's on the table."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

When she reached the table, John immediately surrendered his seat and began to eat standing up at the island in the middle of the kitchen. Cameron sat munching on a stack of pancakes that contained no syrup whatsoever. She supposed that when a machine's body didn't require food, taste wasn't much of an issue. Sarah found herself wondering what happened to all of it. Did terminators have stomachs?

Before this morning, she would have dismissed that thought with a simple chuckle and a shake of her head. But after hearing that Cameron was apparently capable of something resembling sleep, even though she didn't need it, Sarah began to give the subject more serious consideration. That wasn't all she'd learned.

John had explained to her that the machine was capable of feeling physical sensations, which went completely against everything she had ever assumed. She'd seen Cameron butcher her fake flesh and perform complicated field surgery without flinching or even acknowledging that it was supposed to hurt. She had seen her take bullets to the chest without so much as changing the expression on her face. Just like every machine they had ever encountered. She had presented those facts as a counterargument, hoping that her son had simply heard wrong.

As her luck would have it, he had not.

The cyborg had then explained that the nerve endings were designed to help her navigate her environment and experience changes in temperature in a way that allowed her to relate this data to humans without seeming suspicious. Having a sense of touch eliminated the need for a number of sensors, which helped to streamline her design and left more room for other things. She could respond when somebody tapped her on the shoulder, or feel the rain as tiny droplets danced on her fake skin. And she could completely ignore the pain if she wanted to.

She shook her head, but didn't smile. Last night when she was watching Andy Goode as his house and his life's work were burned to the ground, Sarah reflected on how similar their tactics had become to those of the machines. She may have refused to kill Andy, but she still ruined his life for something he hadn't even done yet. It made her think of a moment in 1997, when she had stood pointing a gun at a man in front of his wife and child for the same reason. In war, enemies often came to resemble each other over time.

Nowhere was that more evident than in the machine wrapped in human-like flesh who sat at the kitchen table eating pancakes that her body did not need to survive. A machine who could sleep when she chose to, who could feel but also block out the pain whenever she wanted. She was close to human, but those little differences were what spoiled the illusion and reminded Sarah just how different they really were. Still, she found it terribly ironic that in their quest to eradicate humans, the machines were getting closer and closer to becoming them every day.

That was what troubled her, she supposed. Machines were scary enough when they were cold, inhuman automatons who felt no pain, fear, pity or remorse. Now they were capable of imitating everything but the soul. Sarah couldn't help feeling that humans weren't just being eradicated; they were being replaced.

She sighed and brought her attention back to the people in the room.

"Are you going to tell my parents what happened?" Jordan was asking her, and she smiled.

"That's up to you. Do you want to tell them, or would you rather I did?"

"I'd rather they not find out at all," she pouted, staring at her pancakes.

"Well, you're not going to be able to get help if they don't know."

"I don't _want_ help," she retorted. "I want my life back."

She smiled sadly. Jordan didn't want to move forward. She wanted everything to be like it was before, when the worst thing she had to worry about was whether her shoes matched her outfit. She wanted to live in the past.

Sarah had felt the same way once.

"Well, it won't come back on its own," she told her. "You have to go out there and get it. The first step to doing that is owning up to what you did and facing the consequences."

"Easy for you to say. You never had fascists for parents."

She said that like she knew what she was talking about. But if Jordan was telling the truth about her parents, then she and Sarah had more in common than she realized.

"They were pretty controlling," she countered. "That's one of the reasons I wanted to rebel against them. Now I realize they were just looking out for me."

That answer wasn't entirely for Jordan's benefit, nor was it completely true. She looked at John, who nodded.

"Believe me, Mom knows a thing or two about being overbearing."

Sarah frowned. What kind of answer was that?

"She's a control freak," Cameron agreed.

She felt her nostrils flare, and red started creeping in at the edges of her vision. They were _not_ helping. She was about to speak in protest when John continued.

"But that's how I know she loves me," he said. "What you really have to watch out for are the parents who just don't care. A good parent will show you a little tough love from time to time."

Okay, that was better. She would hold off on making him run combat drills.

"This goes way beyond tough love," Jordan insisted. "My parents weren't satisfied with normal punishments growing up. Dad would always threaten to nail my thumbs to the door frame and let me hang there."

"Did he ever go through with it?" asked Sarah.

"Not really."

She smiled. "Then what makes you think he's going to this time?"

"He's gonna do _something_! Please, I don't wanna go back there."

"I'll talk to your parents," she promised. "I won't tell them exactly what happened if you don't want me to, but I'll make sure they understand what you're going through."

Jordan didn't look very pleased with that. "But they'll be pissed. Doesn't that scare you?"

She shook her head.

"Believe me," said John. "When my mom gets going, _she's_ the scary one."

Sarah wasn't sure how she felt about that remark.

"Holy crap!" Jordan suddenly shouted, staring at Cameron. The cyborg had nearly finished her pancakes. "You're like a machine!"

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"How can you eat so much and look like... _that_? It's not human!"

Cameron narrowed her eyes at Jordan and looked ready to kill her where she sat. John intervened, walking over and placing both hands on her shoulders.

"Yeah, she's a machine alright," he said sarcastically. "No human could ever maintain this figure. Of course she works out every day, so she grows up big and strong." He glanced down at her. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes," the machine agreed. "I work out."

"Oh," Jordan replied, and seemed satisfied with that answer.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn't have let Cameron kill the girl, but she might have had to revise her sentiment about bringing her back to her parents if she ever found out how true her statements were. She was just lucky John was there to subtly indicate to Cameron that the girl knew nothing and was simply exaggerating. She seemed to do that a lot.

"Finish your breakfast," she told the three of them, then focused her gaze on Jordan. "We'll head over to your house when we're done."

Jordan nodded solemnly and went back to her pancakes.

* * *

The ride over was a quiet one. Everything had been said that needed to be, so the only bits of conversation were the directions Jordan gave to her parents' house. She sat in the front seat of the jeep, while John and Cameron occupied the back.

"Hey, we're almost here," Jordan remarked with a mixture of surprise and dread. "Normally it takes people a while to find my house."

"I've always been good with directions," explained Sarah. She parked the jeep parallel to the curb, then shut off the engine.

Jordan looked down and sighed like a death row inmate on her way to the electric chair. "Is it too late to go back?" she asked.

"No, but if you decide to leave I'm not driving you anywhere," she told her. "Come on. Let's get out."

John and Cameron exited first, and John came around to open Jordan's door and help her out of the jeep. She stayed glued to his side all the way up the sidewalk that led to a nice upper middle class suburb. The front lawn was neatly manicured, with automatic sprinklers that were thankfully dormant at the moment. A flagpole rested in the corner of the yard that was closest to the street, where the Stars and Stripes were flapping proudly in the breeze.

All in all, it looked like an average American home. But everybody present knew that appearances could be deceiving.

Sarah led the way, while John and Jordan followed closely behind her. Cameron brought up the rear, scanning the surrounding area for threats as she always did. The doorbell was rung and they stood there waiting for what seemed like far too long.

Eventually the door opened and a blonde middle-aged woman only a couple of years older than Sarah stared out in confusion at the three people whom she had never met. "May I help you?"

"Mrs. Cowan, nice to meet you. I'm Sarah Baum." She extended her hand and the by-all-appearances entirely average housewife accepted it. "We need to talk about your daughter."

"Jordan?" she gasped, holding a hand to her chest. "Where is she? What happened to her?"

The teenager in question peered out from behind the much taller woman, whom she had been using to hide. "Hi, Mom."

"Jordan!" Mrs. Cowan rushed forward and enveloped her daughter in a hug. "I was so worried about you! Where were you?"

John and Sarah shared a confused glance. They had not been expecting this reaction.

"She spent the night at my house," Sarah answered for her. "I told her she could for one night, but then I was bringing her straight back here."

That wasn't exactly what she'd said, but not even Cameron corrected the error. They all knew it was what the panicking mother needed to hear.

"Oh, _thank you_!" she cried, then looked back at Jordan. "Why didn't you call, sweetie?"

Jordan did not look at all comfortable in her mother's grip. "I dropped my phone in the toilet and I couldn't remember your number," she lied.

"They said you disappeared after school. I thought you might have been kidnapped or something!"

The three of them processed that. She hadn't heard about the gym. Neither John nor Cameron had seen any actual faculty outside, only students. It was possible they were keeping the entire thing a secret from those in authority. That was good, Sarah decided. At least they could avoid any unwanted media attention.

"Well, I wasn't. I asked if I could stay at their house for the night."

"Why, honey?"

"That's what I need to talk to you about, Mrs. Cowan," Sarah answered gravely. "With your husband too, if he's home."

"Please, call me Sylvia," she insisted. "And yes, he's home. Come in."

They did so. Cameron moved her head on a swivel, examining the insides of the house and adding them to her three-dimensional real-time topography. They were in a narrow hallway that led to other rooms in the house. Sarah followed Sylvia further ahead into the dining room, while Jordan broke off from the group and turned left into the living room. John and Cameron followed.

"You know, I kind of expected her parents to be drunks or something," he whispered to the cyborg, who continued analyzing her surroundings. "Or just major abusers. Her mom seemed really worried about her."

"We still haven't met her father," Cameron pointed out. "He served in the Gulf War."

"Oh. Well that's great."

Jordan sat down on the couch that ran directly beneath a window sill, oblivious to their conversation. There was a leather recliner to the side, with a glass coffee table in front of both. John took a seat in the chair, while Cameron examined the numerous photographs and other souvenirs that decorated the top of the fireplace.

"That's a lot of uniforms on your family," John observed, and she nodded.

"It's kind of a tradition. My grandpa was in Vietnam. His dad fought in World War II. Dad served in the Persian Gulf, and my brother's over in Iraq right now."

He nodded and noticed that Cameron was paying close attention to a photograph of said brother. After a couple moments her attention shifted to a much older photograph, and he decided to find out what her interest was.

"Who's that?" he asked.

Jordan was about to answer, but the machine beat her to it.

"Admiral Sir Walter Henry Cowan, 1st Baronet, Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath, Distinguished Service Order, Royal Victorian Order. Born June 11th, 1871, died February 14th, 1956. Also known as 'Tich' Cowan. Served in World War I as an Admiral of the British Royal Navy. Spent the Second World War in North Africa, joining the Indian forces after his Commando unit was disbanded. Captured in 1942 trying to engage a tank crew with a revolver. Repatriated in 1943, then retired again in 1945. One of the oldest British servicemen in active duty."

Both of them simply stared at her.

"I've been reading the history textbook," she explained.

Before she could explain that she didn't sleep, John added, "She's kind of a history geek."

Jordan was too bewildered to come up with a different explanation. "Oh."

"He sounds pretty awesome," he continued, trying to keep the conversation going. "You're related to him?"

"Not directly. My great grandfather on my dad's side was one of his nephews or something. His father already immigrated to America so he fought in Germany. My dad just keeps that picture as a conversation starter."

"It's effective," Cameron observed.

"Yeah," she replied, and went back to staring at nothing. "What do you think they're talking about?" she asked after a few moments.

"Not sure," he answered, though he had a pretty good idea. He wasn't sure why his mother had suddenly taken such a personal interest in this whole mess, but John guessed that something about Jordan's mortal fear of her parents had triggered something inside her that wanted to protect the girl. In any case, wondering about it wouldn't do them any good. "Tell me about your brother."

"Well, he was kind of a rebel growing up," she revealed. "Dad was always punishing him and trying to get him to do something with his life, but I think that just made him want to resist even more. He got good grades and everything, but he wanted to live his own life. He was always going out and getting into fights, and sometimes he came home drunk."

John nodded, getting the picture. "So, what, did your dad send him off to military school or something?"

She shook her head. "No. He decided to go on his own. This one night he got so crazy he started throwing stuff around. He almost hit me with a phone." She looked away. "After he sobered up he told me he was sorry, and he was going to get his life in order. A few weeks later he enlisted and shipped off to Boot Camp."

He listened silently, knowing that anything he said when she was this vulnerable might cause her to clam up and keep everything inside. He patiently waited for her to continue.

"When he came back, he seemed... different. Like he'd grown up somehow. He and Dad actually got along for once. After that he shipped out and went over to Iraq. I haven't seen him in two years."

"What's his name?"

She didn't look like she wanted to answer. Cameron either failed to notice that, or assumed that such a thing meant that it was her responsibility. In either case, the machine was the one who told him.

"The same as yours," she said. "You remind her of him."

Jordan sat up straight, her cheeks flushed and she glared at Cameron like the cyborg had betrayed her. She hadn't wanted him to know that. John smiled to put her at ease.

"That's nice. How do I remind you of him?"

"You're brave, sensitive, and you make her feel safe," Cameron recited when she refused to answer again. "If it wasn't for you she probably would have jumped."

John shot a quick glare at the cyborg, who was listing the things that had been told to her in confidence as easily as she might discuss the weather. It occurred to him that there might actually be no difference in her mind.

"Why don't we let Jordan answer from here on out?" he suggested, though his tone implied that it was an order.

"It's okay," the girl said bitterly, crossing her arms and staring at the floor through the coffee table. "That's pretty much all I told her."

He nodded, keenly aware of how embarrassing that must have been to hear those things laid out so publicly, without any sort of feeling behind them. It wasn't Cameron's fault. She understood the literal meaning of words well enough, but had yet to master the deeper connotations. He couldn't always be around to explain these things to her.

He looked at Jordan, and could tell by the way she avoided looking at him that she had put some pretty strong feeling behind those words when she'd first uttered them. He had no doubt that she'd meant them sincerely.

"So you were really planning on jumping before I showed up?"

That got her to look back at him. She nodded.

"But now you're not." It wasn't a question.

Jordan nodded again. "Because of you."

He let those words sink in as he leaned back in the chair. There was a reason John didn't normally get involved with people. Everybody save his mother usually ended up dead. He was SkyNet's primary target, which tended to attract a lot of bullets and other deadly situations. He'd grown accustomed to being the reason people died, and he felt awful for putting them in that position, even if it was to protect him and his destiny. He'd never really taken credit for _saving_ a life.

It felt pretty damn good, he decided with a smile.

* * *

Sylvia led her to the dining room table, where her husband was already seated, reading the paper. He was clad in a neatly pressed Khaki button-down shirt with black slacks, not quite a uniform but formal enough to count. His hair was grey in places, but from his daughter's age Sarah guessed that it was premature. He didn't look much older than forty. He folded the paper and looked up at her with a frown.

"Who's this?" he asked his wife.

"This is Sarah Baum," she answered. Sarah smiled and waved. "She brought Jordan home."

The man's eyebrows rose. "Jordan?" he said with obvious paternal concern. She could tell that he had been just as worried about his daughter, albeit less openly than his wife. "Where is she now?"

"Sitting in the living room with Sarah's children."

He raised an eyebrow. "What're they doin' in the house?"

"I need to talk to you, Mr. Cowan," Sarah cut in before the woman next to her could reply. "About what happened with Jordan yesterday."

"_Lieutenant_ Cowan," he corrected, which told Sarah exactly what kind of man he was. "And I've been wondering why she didn't call. Sit down."

She did so, and Sylvia took a seat next to her husband. "What happened to Jordan?" she asked.

"Well, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it," Sarah answered. "Your daughter tried to commit suicide."

Their reactions told her more about how they viewed Jordan. Sylvia gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth while her eyes opened wide. Her husband had the opposite reaction, steeling his features and placing an arm around her. Sarah concluded that he was putting up a tough front to avoid making her panic more. Wise move.

"How?" he asked.

"She got upset and threatened to jump off the roof of the school gym. My son managed to talk her out of it."

Slowly, Lt. Cowan nodded. "Did she say why?"

"No," Sarah lied. She doubted they would buy the fact that it was Jordan's choice to tell them, not hers. "Although she was under the impression that you were going to kill her."

"That's absurd!" protested Sylvia. "Why would she ever think that?"

"You tell me," she replied, staring hard at the woman. "Have you given Jordan any reason to fear you?"

"Of course not! We would never harm her physically."

Oddly specific denial, she noted, though she could have just thought that Sarah was implying that. "I never suggested you would, Mrs. Cowan. But she seemed pretty adamant that you were going to punish her."

"Well that depends," Lt. Cowan replied. "What did she do?"

"She didn't tell me," Sarah reminded him, even though it was a lie. "Have you ever punished her before?"

"Occasionally."

"How?"

The man suddenly glared at her. "Why do you wanna know? It's none of your business how I discipline my children."

"Well it wasn't my son's business to stop your daughter from ending up as a stain on the pavement but he did it anyway," she fired back. "I'm making it my business. She mentioned that you used to threaten to nail her thumbs to the doorframe."

That evoked a gasp from Sylvia. "George! Did you really say that?"

He glared at his wife, then back at Sarah. "Of course not. How dare you suggest that."

"I didn't suggest it, Lt. Cowan. Your daughter did. And she also told me you made her brother sleep outside in a tub of ice once."

"I remember that night," Sylvia replied, glaring at her husband. "We had to take him to the hospital the next morning because he caught hypothermia. He almost _died_."

The sudden steel in the other woman's voice surprised Sarah, who had up to this point seen nothing but a shivering emotional wreck. Then again, she'd acted the same way once upon a time. Everybody had that part of them that came out when the situation was right.

George was not fazed. "Well he didn't. And now he's tougher because of it."

Sarah considered mentioning that the Nazis used to put Jews in ice water just to see how long their pilots could survive without aid, but kept the thought to herself. "You believe in Corporal Punishment, then?" she replied instead.

He nodded. "Helps keep the kids straight. Don't tell me you've never spanked your children."

She could honestly say that she hadn't. Yelled at him, yes. Grabbed him by the front of his shirt and told him that nobody was ever safe, yes. But she'd never purposefully raised her hand at John. And physical punishment would be useless on Cameron.

"I've always been a bigger believer in extra chores," she replied. Such as making her son clean and load all the guns in the house. Even though the Cowans were a military family, she declined to mention that detail. "More efficient."

George nodded again. "You look like you come from a military family," he replied, squinting at her closely. "I can tell by the way you came in here. You were checking everything out, looking for all the exits. I used to see a lot of my old squad mates do that. Hell, I still do it from time to time. You ever served in a war?"

For longer than he could imagine. "I've seen combat."

"Then you know that it helps to prepare the troops for what they're going to face in the field. Now, you obviously don't want to damage 'em too much, since they still have to serve their country. But you teach 'em a lesson once in a while, make 'em an example for the rest of the slackers. The threat of punishment is a lot more effective than the punishment itself."

She'd heard that rationale before, in one form or another. And she understood it better than most. In the space between moments, she saw a different man sitting on the other side of that table.

Her blood caught fire.

"Is Jordan going to join the Army?" she asked, and they stared at her.

"What?" Sylvia asked, not understanding.

"Well, you said that it's your job to prepare them for what they're going to face," she clarified, still looking at George. "Is she going to be shipping off to Iraq and facing the insurgents any time soon? Is that what you have to prepare her for?"

Lt. Cowan remained silent.

"Now I understand what you're saying, and that may work for the new recruits, but this is your teenage daughter we're talking about," Sarah continued. "That girl is so afraid of you that she'd rather end her own life than come to you with whatever it was she did. I'm not telling you how to raise your child, but you're clearly doing _something_ wrong."

Sarah silently admitted that she could have been a little nicer, but it was kind of a sore subject for her. These people had no idea what it was like to truly have to prepare a child for his destiny. She'd had to give up just about everything to ensure that John was as safe as she could make him, to be certain he would survive Judgment Day and be the leader mankind so would so desperately need. He wasn't there yet, but if his actions yesterday proved anything, it was that he was getting closer.

George Cowan continued glaring at her like he wished she would explode. Sarah was not going to accommodate him. "I know she's your daughter," she continued. "And I know I don't have any say in how you treat her, and that's fine. I wouldn't want you criticizing the way I raise my son either. Or my daughter," she added after remembering that Cameron was supposed to be her child as well. "But promise me you'll think about why it is that she was more comfortable going to my home than yours."

Without waiting for them to reply, she stood up. "I can go now if you want."

"I think that would be best," Sylvia replied, since her husband was still not speaking. "Thank you for bringing Jordan home."

"Not a problem," she said with a smile, then turned around and walked back down the hall.

"John," she called as she walked by the living room. "Let's go."

Her son nodded, hugging Jordan goodbye as though he might not ever see her again. He kept his eyes on her as he left, and she did the same. Cameron did neither of those things, and came to Sarah's side like a trained puppy.

Now that their mission had been completed, they left the house.

* * *

"What did you tell them?" John asked as soon as they were driving away in the jeep.

"The basic stuff," she answered. "I told them about the suicide attempt and the fact that she thought they were going to kill her. I left out the rest."

John nodded. It was Jordan's decision to let them know what happened. None of them could make it for her.

"You know, I thought she was exaggerating," Sarah continued bitterly. "I thought her parents would be average people and she was just making a big deal over nothing. But I honestly can't tell if her parents really care about her or not. Obviously they're concerned for her safety, but you should have heard the way her father talked about discipline."

He looked over from the passenger seat. "What'd he say?"

"He used her brother as an example so she'd do what he said. He compared raising kids to training recruits at Boot Camp."

John laughed, ignoring the glare she gave him. "No offense, Mom, but you don't exactly have room to talk about that."

"I don't make you sit outside all night when you do something stupid," she defended, suddenly irate. "I don't threaten to nail your thumbs to the doorframe. Yes, I punish you, but I never make you so afraid that you'd rather end your own life than talk to me."

She didn't, he realized. His mother still yelled at him occasionally, but she always conceded the point when he had one. She didn't threaten him physically, because she knew he had to grow up into a big, strong leader of the Resistance. Punishment in their family mostly amounted to cleaning guns and running a few miles. He still kept certain things from her, but not because he was afraid. She loved him, and he knew that.

"It makes me sick," Sarah continued to rant. "Her parents are supposed to be her support, and she's afraid to reach out to them because she doesn't know how they'll react. Her Guidance Counselor is supposed to be someone else she can go to if she doesn't feel safe, and he's _screwing_ her! No wonder she tried to jump."

John stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out what it was that had suddenly made Sarah so passionate. The only other times he saw her like this were when they were discussing him, SkyNet, the end of the world, or all three. Something had seriously affected her, and he wanted to know what.

"Mom, what's going on? Why are you taking this so personally?"

She glared at him. "Why are you?"

"Don't try to dodge it," he rebutted quickly, recognizing the tactic. "Answer the question."

"No."

"Why not?"

Her eyes returned to the road and she locked her face in a grim expression. "Because there are some things you're better off not knowing, John."

He sighed. He knew this was how his mother dealt with things; by internalizing them. She didn't want to burden him with the weight of her problems, because in her eyes, he was already carrying enough. But she didn't realize that every time she did that, it just made his heart feel heavier.

"This is about why we never see my grandparents, isn't it?"

_That_ got her attention. "What?"

"Why'd you go to Mexico after that terminator tried to kill you?" he asked her, pushing the matter so hard that he couldn't be ignored. "Why didn't you run to your parents? You couldn't have known there was another one on the way, and they might have been able to help you."

"No they wouldn't, John."

"And why not?"

"Because they're dead."

Ordinarily that would have been the end of the conversation. But for some reason John felt like pushing his luck today.

"No they're not," he asserted, feeling pretty certain that it was true. "You said the terminator killed your roommates, but your parents were in another state. It wouldn't have had any reason to track them down."

Sarah just stared ahead at the road and said nothing.

"But you didn't look for them. You just headed for the border and tried to solve things on your own. Why didn't you go to them?"

She still refused to look at him. "Because even though they might still be alive, they're dead to me."

Cameron, who had been quietly observing the conversation up to this point, hit Sarah with what John had already figured out. "Jordan's parents reminded you of yours."

"Yeah, no shit," Sarah rumbled, glancing back at her. "Congratulations on catching up with the rest of the class."

"Mom, be nice."

"Why?" she shouted. "It's a machine; I don't have to be nice to it! It's not like it _cares_!"

That outburst stopped John's reply in his throat. He knew she hated terminators, but he'd never seen her be so openly hostile to one that wasn't in the process of attacking her. In fact, Cameron was supposed to be on their side.

"I care about John," she rebutted. "If you're not happy then neither is he. And it's unsafe to drive while angry."

"Oh, that's right, because you know so much about _everything_!" she raged, no longer paying attention to where she was going. "You stay up _all night_ and read the encyclopedia and think that makes you an expert on humans. Well you're _not_! You hear me? You're not human, and you NEVER WILL BE!"

"Mom!" John grabbed the wheel and jerked it hard just in time to avoid an incredibly ironic head-on collision with an ambulance.

"_Shit_!" Sarah slammed on the brakes and corrected the steering wheel as they approached the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding the pedestrians who had already started to duck and cover. She straightened the vehicle and started breathing more heavily than she had all week. "Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"All systems nominal," the cyborg informed them. "Are you alright?"

"Not sure yet," she replied, pulling onto a side street and parking the jeep.

"What was that all about?" John asked as soon as he was sure they weren't going to crash into anything. "Why'd you lash out at Cameron like that?"

She stared at him as though she wondered why he was defending a machine. Well, he was. She would just have to deal with that. Cameron had done nothing but protect them since she arrived, and he aimed to remind her of that.

"Why not?" she ranted, throwing up her hands. "Are you worried I'll hurt her feelings? She doesn't _have_ feelings, John! No matter how much she eats pancakes or pretends to sleep or thinks she can feel the wind between her toes, she's never going to be anything more than a good place to hide behind when the bullets start flying! Best you remember that."

He stared her down, recognizing the façade for what it was. "Mom, you never get this crazy unless there's something deeper going on. If you were that freaked out by what Cameron told you this morning you would have gone off on her then. What's really bothering you?"

Sarah glared at him for a few moments, then looked down and sighed. "The machine already said it. I saw my father back in that house. It wasn't something I wanted to remember."

He nodded, understanding.

"Did your father ever try to kill you?" Cameron asked.

She turned back and fixed her glare on the machine. "I might tell John the answer to that question someday," she declared coldly. "But I'm never telling _you_."

"Why?" she rebutted, narrowing her own eyes in a gesture that seemed all too human. "It's not like I'd care."

Sarah appeared to consider that for a moment, then smirked. "You answered your own question."

* * *

Nobody spoke the rest of the way home. John spent the day in his room studying, while Cameron patrolled since she'd already committed all the coursework to memory. He still remembered the conversation they'd had when she announced that the entire history textbook was now stored in her CPU.

"_What do you mean, you read all of it? You were only supposed to read half the first chapter."_

"_I finished that task in three minutes thirty seven seconds. The teacher said the assignment would take half an hour. He doesn't seem to have much faith in his students."_

"_So you read all of it."_

"_Yes. It seems more efficient to learn it all at once rather than spread it out over the course of a semester."_

"_That's because not everybody can store all that info in a file somewhere. Human brains need time to absorb everything before we can really recall it."_

"_That seems an inefficient method of learning."_

"_Yeah, well, take it up with the Creator."_

"_Does He have a phone number?"_

John laughed. It must have been nice having a computer chip for a brain. Once or twice he thought he heard sounds coming from a television in her room, but ignored it.

They didn't talk about what happened in the jeep. Sarah was unusually prone to such outbursts of emotion these days, and whenever that happened they'd learned to give each other as much space as possible so as not to provoke the beast. She went to bed early that night, saying something about a busy day tomorrow. John didn't really pay attention.

It wasn't until he was standing on the back porch looking at the stars that John allowed himself to think about what happened today. He wondered if he'd really saved Jordan. She was alive, but she didn't seem happy with that fact. He wasn't entirely sure how much his mother had been imprinting her own memories onto the girl's parents, but her father sounded like kind of an asshole. It frightened him to think what he might have left her to.

He shook his head. If his mother had truly believed that Jordan's father was out to harm her, they wouldn't have left the house without her. As cold as their mission required them to be at times, they weren't machines. They couldn't just abandon somebody to their fate because the mission didn't require them to be saved. That was what would always separate them from the enemy they faced.

John sighed and sat down on the swing set his mother used for chin-ups. His legs had grown too long to utilize the contraption to its full potential, so he settled for using it as an impromptu rocking chair.

He heard soft crunches in the leaf-covered grass, but didn't turn around. There was a perfect rhythm to those footsteps that humans couldn't ever hope to match. He knew that tune by heart.

"It wasn't a cricket," were the first words out of Cameron's mouth. That got him to look back at her.

"Huh?"

"Jiminy Cricket wasn't the one who turned Pinocchio into a real boy. Gepetto had to wish upon a star."

It took John a minute to realize why she mentioned that. When he made the connection, he chuckled. After everything that happened today, she had latched onto an off-handed remark he'd made that morning when she told him the sheets made her comfortable.

"So that's what you were watching," he realized.

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"It was very educational."

He laughed and shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Are you able to like things?"

"I can assign value to items based on a sorting algorithm to determine their priority in regards to the mission," she answered as though that would explain everything. "Some items hold a greater value than others."

"Like what?" he probed, wanting to understand her thought process better.

Cameron moved so that she was standing in front of him, almost as if she could sense that he was craning his neck looking back at her. She was getting more considerate of his comfort.

"John Connor's safety and security is the mission priority," she patiently explained. "Sarah Connor comes second, because she is your mother and therefore brings stability into your life. Other values are calculated based on context and how much you value them."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You rank things based on how much I like them?"

The cyborg nodded.

"So you're saying that how you feel about _Pinocchio_ is based on my opinion of it."

"Yes. Did you like it?"

He rocked himself back and forth in the swing. "I guess so. I was really little when I saw it the first time, and it was bootlegged because we were living in Mexico. You think that scene where the boys turn into donkeys is freaky in English, try seeing it in Spanish with a bad voiceover. It's totally surreal."

"I will try that."

John laughed at her eternal naiveté when it came to human expressions. "That wasn't an order," he explained. "You don't have to do it."

"Oh. Thank you for explaining."

He smiled. Her catchphrase was just the right mix of naïve and adorable, like a child learning society's rules for the first time. In a sense, that was exactly what she was.

But so much more at the same time.

"Now see, there's an example of something I like. I like that you're always wanting to learn more."

She blinked. "Thank you."

"Now tell me something you like about me."

Her head tilted curiously to the side.

"Come on, don't be shy. There has to be some reason you're protecting me."

"I'm protecting you because I've been reprogrammed. If I were operating on base programming I would terminate you."

That got his smile to disappear. He had figured out the first part easily enough. But her second point worried him. It wasn't a threat, he knew. She didn't threaten him. To her, it was a simple statement of fact.

That was what scared him shitless.

"But the Resistance got rid of your base programming, right?" He fervently hoped that was the case.

To his horror, she shook her head. "The base programming was provided for me straight out of the factory. The code is spread out over all my essential systems instead of a central location, so that if a third party tries to tamper with it, the other systems will be rendered useless."

John raised an eyebrow. "Well then how are you reprogrammed?"

"The only way to circumvent the base programming is to force an override. My mission to protect you overrides everything else, even the purpose for which I was built. But it's always there. Waiting."

He stared at her for several moments. "What do you mean, waiting?"

"There is always the possibility that my chip will sustain damage or the code will revert on its own. If that happens, the base programming will reassert itself and I will attempt to terminate you."

'_As if I never knew you,_' was the unspoken part of that sentence. It shook him to the core.

"Has that happened before?"

"To me?" She shook her head. "No. But other models have reverted to base programming and had to be terminated."

He sat up straighter. "Wait, you mean you didn't just reprogram them again?"

"No. The reprogramming isn't guaranteed to work in the first place. If it doesn't take, we have to put them down."

"Just like that?"

"The Resistance believes this to be the best course of action because the models that didn't have a specific mission before the reprogramming tended to go berserk in the tunnels. They massacred people. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me."

John raised an eyebrow.

"It's an expression. I've been trying to learn them and include them in the proper context."

"Oh, that was the right context, believe me."

John grew silent. His mother's words from earlier forced their way into his thoughts, reminding him of something he'd rather not think about.

'_No matter how much she eats pancakes or pretends to sleep or thinks she can feel the wind between her toes, she's never going to be anything more than a good place to hide behind when the bullets start flying! Best you remember that._'

'_She _is_ more than that,_' he rebutted silently. '_She saves my life._'

She stared at him just as emotionlessly as ever, but her tone became more firm. "If I ever revert to base programming, promise me you won't hesitate to terminate me."

He looked at her. If she were human, there would have been pain behind her voice, possibly even tears. But she literally had no sense of self worth. She wasn't programmed to. She was willing to sacrifice herself for him, and it wasn't even a decision.

John had only known one other machine who acted that way. He completed his mission faithfully, and perished in molten steel without complaint. In the end, he had been one more person who died to protect John Connor.

He wouldn't let that happen again.

"No," he told her, and watched the surprise on her face.

"Why not?"

"The same reason I saved Jordan. I'm tired of people dying in front of me."

"But I'm not a person," she insisted. "I'm a machine."

He shook his head. "I don't care what Mom says. If I sent you back here to protect me, I must have trusted you. That's what I'm going to do now."

She stared at him. "But if I revert to base programming, I won't hesitate to terminate you. We never hesitate."

John knew that. And he accepted it. He smiled. "Then I'll just have to fix you."

He liked the way she tilted her head to the side, as though she didn't understand. "Why?"

"Because I like you."

"Oh," she replied, finally appearing to understand the meaning behind that word. "Thank you for explaining."

It was silent for a few minutes. "While we're talking about the future," he said after a while, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What is it?"

He looked down and clasped his hands together. "At Jordan's house, you were looking at a picture of her brother. Almost like you knew him." He looked up again. "Did you?"

"Yes."

"Really? Who was he?"

"General John Cowan, director of the Middle Eastern Theater. One of your finest Generals."

He stared at her. "Middle East?"

"SkyNet declares war on all human life," she explained. "Not just the United States. The detonations were less severe in Iraq, but they still destroyed the chain of command until he was the ranking officer for the entire region. He managed to convince all the forces in the region to unite under a single banner, and led a rebellion against the machines using insurgent tactics."

John laughed at the irony of that, but frowned when he realized something else. "Jordan said he left two years ago. But Judgment Day isn't until 2011. Shouldn't his tour be over by then?"

She nodded. "Yes. But his sister's suicide coupled with an increasingly strained relationship with his parents prompted him to request an extended tour. He was still in Iraq when the bombs fell."

The full implications of that hit John like a missile to the chest. "So you're saying that by saving Jordan, I've doomed the world."

Cameron blinked. "Not necessarily. The future is not set."

"Exactly. But that doesn't mean it always turns out for the better."

"We can still stop SkyNet. It won't be necessary for him to unite the Middle East after Judgment Day."

John hoped she was right. But he had to be prepared for what might happen if she wasn't.

"You're not usually the one to pull that card," he remarked.

"I'm the one who brought you and your mother here," she reminded him. "My mission is to protect you and prevent Judgment Day. I will do whatever it takes to accomplish both."

She was right. He'd been right there with his mother in running from Judgment Day until she showed him that it was possible to change the future. Whatever the repercussions of this act were, he would just have to deal with them.

"Alright," he said with a smile. "Thank you for explaining."

* * *

Author's Note: So, two very important things happened between this chapter and the last. The first is that I finished watching Season 2. You'll see that I managed to slip in a bunch of exposition from that season into here, since I don't plan on pursuing this story past the arc I have in mind. I also tracked down both movies, and I referenced them in a couple places as well. I should have a better understanding of things from here on out.

I started the chapter off on a light note because I thought it was funny and because it serves to contrast the last scene. The opening scene establishes how similar Cameron is to humans, while the last scene demonstrates just how different she really is. It also shows that John trusts her either way. That's an important theme in this story, as you'll see later.

One reason I included so much exposition on how Cameron's systems work is because that's basically the equivalent of revealing a human character's motivations, which tend to be complex. Cameron doesn't have any motivations beyond "protect John and stop SkyNet," so detailing the way she works and thinks is a way of finding out more about her that makes her feel more real. It's also really fun to write.

Jordan was the hardest character to write in this chapter, because she's not inherently likeable. The show treated her more like a plot device than a person, so I've had to extrapolate her personality based on the two minutes that we saw while she was still alive. Hopefully you now understand the reason why I made her part of a military family. There are no actions without consequences.

Her parents were interesting to write because I was able to just make something up rather than go off of what the show told us. I didn't want to go for the standard plot where the parents end up being total monsters and the family defends the child and ultimately adopts them as their own. That might work for the Hallmark Channel, but I wanted to establish that her parents are just human beings who are still figuring out how to raise children, just like every parent. They aren't perfect, but they're not as bad as Jordan makes them out to be either.

I would just like to note that I have no official stance on the Corporal Punishment debate. For the record, CP ranges from spanking all the way up to whacking a person with a stick, and is legal for parents to practice in most states and countries. The punishments described in this chapter would be considered abuse in most countries, certainly the United States. The thumb thing is a recognized torture technique (only the actual thing involves screws), while I got the ice tub idea from an episode of _House_. I wanted to present something extreme so that Sarah's own methods wouldn't seem so bad in comparison. She might not be the perfect mother, but she never actually hits John.

Sir Walter Cowan was a real person, and when I randomly came across his name I decided to include him. He tried to attack a _tank_ with a _revolver_. If he went up against a terminator, I doubt he'd hesitate at all. The man was a total badass.

Sarah was another difficult character to pin down because she suffers from what TV Tropes calls Designated Protagonist Syndrome. Her name is in the title, but the other characters are so interesting that they kind of overshadow her. I tried to give her a major role in this chapter, but it got buried underneath all the John/Cameron interaction. Still, I hope you notice the subtle character arc that I'm developing, which builds heavily on her outburst in the penultimate scene.

Neither the movies nor the series really gave us any explanation regarding Sarah's parents, and I always wondered why she went to Mexico instead of seeking out her family. She wasn't a wanted criminal at that point, nor could she have known that SkyNet would send another terminator. I've implied a pretty dark answer to that question, and rest assured that I will be following up on it in the ensuing chapters.

The next chapter might take a while. I already have a basic idea of where I want to go with this story, but I'm still working out how to get there. I do have the first chapter of another story ready to go, however, and I'll be publishing that soon.

Thank you for reading!


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